Archive for the ‘Adult Situations’ Category

María Florentina strides purposefully towards the Maldonado del Culebrón estate’s aviary. Her falconry session, with the regal red ovenbird Nearchus, had to be canceled after the receipt of the disturbing message from her agent – Gabriella.

Opening a wireframe door she deposits Nearchus in the aviary, and retires to the house. The other birds gawk at the returning favorite, with expressions Nearchus mistakes for the envy of lesser creatures. In reality, though they may not know the predatory exhilaration of the great sport of falconry, these simple birds are all too aware of the activities of Nearchus’ mate when he is absent from the aviary… An absence that today has been cut short.

Hopping suddenly onto his usual perch, Nearchus’ playful expression drops into one of utter shock, witness as he is to his mate and an audacious Italian gruccione engaged in a feather-ruffling adult situation that would make a peacock blush!

Rentwich: “Please Gordnauld. This is my last wish… Tell her, tell her that night in Singapore was more than just a hot torrid adult situation to me. I often think of how she moved her-”

Gordnauld: “Nyeeeeeargh!!! Stop! Why would you say that? Why? Why aren’t you talking about vampires? This island is practically infested with them, right? We need to dig ’em up and stake ’em before sunset! Right? Right?”

Rentwich turns from the agitated young man to watch the sun, now low in the sky, casting it’s shimmering pools over the calm Atlantic waters. Whether human or otherwise, something on this island – Rentwich thinks – will not see another day pass.

Rentwich: “Tell her, my only regret in life is not paying those contortionists to stay for another hour…. she’ll know what it means.”

Easterson: “I’m still so stunned that I, Easterson de Butugenhausen, have overheard an adult situation in full swing wherein my wife, Guinevere de Butugenhausen, and an unidentified male made a cuckold of me. What more could I have done than to buy a Sony Ericsson C702a for the woman to prevent such transgressions!?… The device was practically engineered for the purpose! The only thing that could possibly cheer me in the slightest would be to visit my comatosed Golden Platypus Club compatriot and long-time rival, Stockton Fortuna, and gloat over his ailing health.”

Adjusting her clothes, Guinevere looks around the room.
Guinevere: “But I don’t understand Stockon. Why are you here in the hospital, pretending to be in a coma?”
Stockon: “Someone is plotting against me Guinevere. This was the only way I could draw them out of hiding.”
Guinevere: “My God Stockon! You’re using yourself as bait!”
He nods solemnly. She looks at him, her eyes ablaze.
An adult situation ensues.

In the den of Easterson de Butugenhausen, the debonair industrialist is looking at a map of the world – no doubt planning the eleborate strategems by which his global corporations toy with men’s lives as if they were so many toy men.
Easterson: “I love manipulating people.”
He says, aloud, to the empty room. His thought is interrupted by his cell phone ringing – the Sony Ericsson W508a which he had especially selected for it’s provision for unrestrained marital infidelity.
Easterson: “Ah. It’s my wife, Guinevere de Butugenhausen…. Hello? Hello? Guinevere? It’s your husband, Easterson de Butugenhausen.”
He pauses, for the first time noticing the sounds coming from the other end of the line; The unmistakable sounds of an adult situation.

Guinevere de Butugenhausen, wife of Stockon Fortuna’s Golden Platypus Club compatriot Easterson de Butugenhausen, steps slowly into the former’s hospital room.
Guinevere: “Oh Stockon, what a fool I’ve been. Now it’s too late… to tell you…”
She breaks down on Stockon’s bed.
Stockon: “It’s never too late.”
He grabs the shocked Guinevere with his powerful, non-comatosed arms, and an adult situation ensues.
Unbeknownst to either of them, the goings-on mash the buttons of Guinevere’s Sony Ericsson C702a and place a call to her husband. If only she had had a Sony Ericsson W508a flip-phone… or had Easterson experienced some prescience of button-mashing infedility when he gave her the phone as a Hanukkah gift?